Playing With Fire
by IAmOnlyMe
Summary: Being a Greaser is rough, and being a Soc is hard too. But being in the middle can be even worse.
1. Introduction

Ahh, the line breaks are back. Thank goodness; I missed them far more than I reasonably should have.

Anyway, this is just something I was playing around with. It's third person POV, which isn't something I use very often, so forgive me if it feels weird. This first chapter is kind of the prologue, I guess you could say, and I want to go back in the next chapter and focus on Emma and her relationships a few weeks before this scene.

Constructive criticism is always welcome.

**Disclaimer: **S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders, and Wham owns Careless Whispers, which the lyrics at the top are from. I only own what you don't recognize.

* * *

**Prologue**

_There's no comfort in the truth / pain is all you'll find_

Quietly, an exhausted middle-aged man slipped through his front door and padded softly to his room. Lying on the left side of the bed, his wife stared at the wall, her eyes open.

When she detected his presence, she sat up, turning on the lamp by the bed. For a moment, she only studied her husband's face, her expression guarded. "Long day?"

George Mansfield nodded, running a hand across his eyes. A day on the force was always hard, but that night had been worse than ever before. The woman waited a moment to see if he would explain why he was stumbling in at three in the morning, but when he said nothing she left it alone. Judging from the agony in his eyes, something had happened that he wasn't quite ready to discuss.

Diane's face softened and she gestured him over. Gently pulling his shoulders down to make him sit on the edge of the bed, she started to massage his muscles. Sometimes it was hard, being married to a police officer. George never got off work on time and he was always coming home upset by things he had seen. But even still, she loved him. It was his deep-seeded need to make all things right that attracted her to him in the first place.

She would stay by his side despite the hardships. Diane always made sure her two children understood the good things their father did for Tulsa. Roger looked up to George with fervor, his short ten years blatantly obvious in the way he wanted only to be just like his father. It was sixteen-year-old Emma that was sometimes a problem.

George was not Emma's real father, only her stepdad, and although she easily accepted him as family, she was at the age that she was becoming less and less loyal to her parents. She loved them, of course, but she challenged them constantly. Even still, Emma respected her parents, and she was proud of her stepfather's righteous nature.

"I shot a boy," George said abruptly, his voice thick with sorrow. Diane gasped in spite of herself, and quickly regretted it when she saw the pain flash through her husband's eyes.

Letting go of his shoulders, she scooted back on the bed so he could sit across from her, which he did. Quietly, her eyes wide, she waited for him to explain.

"He couldn't have been older than eighteen. I didn't know him that well, but some of the other guys did. I'd heard of him plenty though, of course. No one at the station hasn't—he gets hauled in all the time."

As he spoke, George's eyes flitted with grief at his actions, and Diane's heart sank for her husband. She knew in her heart that whatever had happened hadn't been his fault.

"This kid, he robbed a store. He was runnin' when we caught up with him, and he pulled a gun on us."

Now, his eyes shimmered with tears that he would never let fall.

"All I could think about was you, and Emma and Roger. I didn't wanna die, Diane," George's voice was desperate, pleading with his wife to understand, and she took his hand in her own, squeezing it to reassure him that she did.

"So I pulled the trigger. It wouldn't have mattered if I hadn't, Charlie and Jack were shooting too."

Diane silenced her husband, putting a finger to his lips as she saw him losing control over his voice. "You did the right thing. He could have killed you," she said quietly, not wanting to wake the kids down the hall.

At her words, he let out a strangled sound, and managed to say, "The gun wasn't loaded."

It took her a minute to comprehend what her husband had just said, and by the time she got it, he was lying down on top of the covers, still dressed in his navy blue uniform, his eyes shut tightly against the tears that threatened to fall.

All Diane could think about was that boy. Why on Earth would he point an unloaded gun at the police? He must have known he'd be shot. The only thing she could imagine was that he had forgotten it wasn't loaded.

It didn't matter anyway, because the bottom line was that her husband was in wrenching pain at that moment, overwhelmed with regret. So pushing away her shocked musings, she turned off the lamp and laid back under the covers, hugging George with one arm as she snuggled closer to him, trying desperately to make him realize he wasn't alone.


	2. Chapter 1

I'm back. I had a totally different chapter written up, but I didn't like it so I kind of changed it all the other day. So this may be a bit rough, but I did want to update relatively soon. I don't own The Outsiders or Anything But Ordinary by Avril Lavigne.

Also, this chapter and the rest of the story goes back in time and takes place before the introduction you read.

Enjoy!

* * *

_"I'd rather be anything but ordinary"_

"Stop, Roger! Give it to me!" Emma whined, sounding pitifully like a toddler. There was just something about her little brother that could make the normally mature girl cry and complain like a child. Now, he had stolen her hairbrush and was taunting her, running around the house with it. He loved to pick on his sister, although she wasn't quite as fond of the practice as he was.

When she finally snatched the brush back, she stomped back to the bathroom and locked the door, ignoring Roger's knocks. He could just wait all he wanted to, she wasn't gonna do him any favors now.

She blocked the noises around her out and stared at her reflection, frowning. Twisting a lock of her chestnut brown hair, she wished she were prettier.

Emma went to Will Rogers High, but she blended right into the scenery. She was middle-class, which meant that no one paid her any attention. The Socs didn't give a flip about her, and the greasers ignored her too. She didn't even care which side she was on; at this point she just wanted friends.

Oh, she had a few people she talked to, but no one that she could call when she was really upset.

And she didn't have anybody that she'd feel comfortable talking to about boys. Not that it was much of a problem, since she'd barely dated.

Emma had only been in Tulsa for two years, which meant that most of the other middle-class students already had their groups of friends.

She always thought it was weird to be in the middle. She watched the Socs, and she saw the greasers too. They were different, but not as much as they liked to think.

Both sides could be real assholes, as far as she was concerned. She didn't want to cross the Socs, but she was scared of the greasers too. She'd had a class or two with Curly Shepard in the past, whose brother was notorious for being one of the toughest gang leaders in Tulsa. Emma had heard some things about him that made her shudder just to think about, and she knew that her stepfather had arrested him many times for all sorts of things. Thankfully, she'd never had the misfortune of meeting him herself.

Then there was Dallas Winston, but he barely ever came to class. As far as Emma was concerned, that boy was a no-good hood who found fun in bothering anyone he could think to. Thank the lord Emma didn't share any classes with him. There was something about his eyes that could make her shake in her boots, and his rough voice had frozen her insides a few times too many. Mostly he left her alone, but whenever he actually was at school, he'd stand around in the hallways with his friends before and after class, and he'd make really crude remarks to the girls. He'd been slapped once, but he just gripped the girl's wrist so hard, his eyes spitting fire, that she wound up crying out in pain.

A couple of times he'd even catcalled to Emma, and it scared the daylights out of her. Her cheeks would burn at the dirty things he would say, and she'd just clutch her books tighter to her chest and hurry down the hall, as far away from him and his roguish laughter as she could get.

Most of the other greasers she didn't mind as much, although she was sure they could be pretty rough when they wanted to. Some of them she even liked.

There was one called Two-Bit in her Algebra II class and he was always cracking jokes and laughing like crazy, and Emma couldn't help but smile in amusement. The Socs in that class didn't appreciate his sense of humor so much though, and the teacher would always reprimand him to be quiet, but Emma could tell that she was hiding a smile too.

The Socs were all right. They scared her too, but in a different way. The greasers she was afraid of because they were so rough and crass, but the Socs intimidated her because of all their mind games. She couldn't count the times that she had heard them ruthlessly trashing their so-called friends behind their backs, and it scared her to think that they could be that mean about her too.

Emma sighed again and finally left the bathroom, convinced she couldn't do anything to make herself more noticeable. Her stepfather had left already, for work no doubt, and her mom was sitting at the table reading the paper.

She would have stayed for breakfast, but she was already late for class.

So giving her mom a tight hug, she grabbed her bag and headed out the front door, starting the walk to school.

She had first period math, and Two-Bit shared that class with her. He was probably the only person who ever paid her any mind, even if it was just because he acted that way to everyone. He was one of those people that just had to talk to everyone, and he had the most scatter-brained mind Emma'd ever seen.

He proved her right, too. Not two minutes after she slipped into class, Two-Bit slid over to her desk and plopped into the one beside Emma's. "What's your last name mean?" He asked, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully.

"Huh?" Emma asked, blinking.

"Mansfield. It don't make no sense. Man's field. Why is the field man's?"

Two-Bit raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer, and Emma tried to cock one of her own but failed miserably. Finally, she simply sighed. "What does Mathews mean?"

This seemed to stump the Greaser, and he sank back in his chair, pondering that. "I reckon it means—"

"Move it, Grease, you're in my chair," Bob Sheldon barked out, glaring at Two-Bit like he was the scum of the Earth. Emma would've told the Soc to shove it, but she didn't have the courage to. She wasn't a Soc or a greaser, and she didn't want to get herself on the South side's enemy list when she knew the greasers wouldn't give a flip about her even if she did.

So she clamped her mouth shut and let Two-Bit fight his own battles, which he was fully prepared to do. Puffing up his chest, he swung his feet up onto the desk next to Bob's, crossing them over each other and clasping his hands behind his neck as if he were reclining. "Well, now, you're just gonna have to say the magic word."

"Beat it."

Two-Bit frowned as if he was contemplating this, and then he shook his head slowly, "Naw, that ain't it."

Bob's eyes narrowed and Two-Bit started chattering as if he and Bob were good friends. "I was just havin' a little chat with Emma here, there ain't no need to get all worked up, Bobby boy."

"Why don't you stick to your own kind and leave her alone, huh? Now move."

For a second, Emma snapped her eyes up to Bob's face, thinking that he was sticking up for her. Maybe he had noticed her, or maybe he and his friends would let her eat lunch with them. She was tired of eating alone.

But the boy was merely talking to upset Two-Bit, so she dropped her eyes back to her desk as the teacher walked in.

"Mathews, get to your seat," she barked, taking her spot at the front of the classroom.

"Please?" Two-Bit called out, a goofy smile on his face as he waited for the "magic word."

"Detention."

"That'll do," Two-Bit quipped, hopping up and striding to his seat in the corner. He sat down, giving Emma a casual wink from across the classroom. He was simply doing it because he was Two-Bit, and it didn't mean anything, but nonetheless, Emma looked away with a blush.

When class let out a long forty-five minutes later, Emma gathered her books and pushed her hair from her eyes with a sigh. Another day stretched out before her, and she was coming to hate the monotony. Being middle class might mean that you have no enemies, but it means you don't have any friends either.

Her next hour was freshmen English with Mr. Syme. When she'd moved to Tulsa two years back, Emma had been tested and put in English courses two years lower than she should be in, according to Will Rogers High. Emma's old school didn't teach much English, they focused on math and science, so nothing made sense to her.

Every day was frustrating, so the thought of sitting in a cramped classroom where the air cackles with tension between the two halves of the room, the Socs and the greasers, was not a welcome one. It had to be done though; her parents would kill her if she missed a class she was already doing so badly in, so she gritted her teeth and stood, hoping to just get through the class without incident.

After class, Emma packed up her stuff as quickly as she could, trying to get out of that dreadful room, even if she didn't have anywhere to go for lunch, when Mr. Syme's voice rang out, stopping her in her tracks. "Miss Mansfield, would you please stay after?"

Wincing, she turned back around to face him, setting her things down on an empty desk. She stayed over by the door, waiting, and he finally chuckled a little. "You can come a little closer, I don't bite."

She gave a weak smile and walked over to his desk, where he took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead. "Miss Mansfield, I'm afraid you're struggling in this class, and if you can't raise your grade, you may not pass."

Gulping nervously, Emma nodded. She hadn't known things had gotten _that_ bad.

"I suggest you find yourself a tutor."

"Like who?"

Mr. Syme scrunched his eyebrows up thoughtfully, "Well, Ponyboy Curtis is doing very well in my class, and I think he'd be willing to help you."

Emma nearly snorted out loud when she heard the name. Ponyboy? What on Earth is a Ponyboy? Nonetheless, Mr. Syme was serious, and if she brought home an F in freshman English… well, let's just say her parents would not be impressed.

"All right."

"Good. I have Ponyboy next hour, so I'll ask him if it's all right. Come by the room after school lets out and you can meet him and arrange to start tutoring."

Mr. Syme beamed at her, as if she were about to try to climb Mount Everest, and she just shrugged and walked out. She wasn't exactly looking forward to spending her afternoons learning English, but it wasn't like she had anything better to do. Her parents wouldn't mind shelling out a few bucks to pay this kid if it would help her grades either.

Emma spent lunch in the courtyard, sitting on the grass against the side of the building. She tried to convince herself that it was relaxing, being there alone with her thoughts and feeling the light breeze against her face, but her heart knew that she would have traded anything to be sitting with even just one other person, goofing around.

As the school day went on, she could feel her stomach sinking. Emma was certainly not looking forward to being tutored.

When the final bell rang, she trudged slowly back to Mr. Syme's classroom, trying her best to force a cheery mask to her face. She didn't want this horse kid to think that he was wasting his time, although he probably was. It really was nice of him to help her, so the least she could do was smile.

Which was what she did when Emma stepped into her English class. Mr. Syme was talking amicably with an auburn-haired greaser. For a second, it didn't register that he was Ponyboy. It just seemed weird to her that a greaser would be so good at English. Most of them didn't seem to be into school and studying.

"Ah, Emma, come meet Ponyboy Curtis," Mr. Syme boomed across the room when he saw her, and she stepped tentatively forward with a cautious smile on her face. She held out her hand for Pony to shake, which he did after eyeing it a little suspiciously for a second.

"Hello. I want to thank you for helping me," she said politely, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"S'okay," he mumbled, looking down at his shoes, a pink blush creeping up his neck.

After a second, when she realized he wasn't going to talk, she spoke, taking control. "We can head over to my house, if you'd like, and study there. That way I can get the money to pay you."

He nodded and pushed himself up from the desk, grabbing his books. Emma turned and led him out of the school and down the street to her house. It had never seemed far before, but walking fifteen minutes with a dead-silent greaser made it feel like it was miles away.

She tried to start a conversation sometimes, but he'd just shrug or answer in one-word replies. She hoped that he'd open up a little when they started studying, or else she had a feeling he wouldn't be much help. How could he be so good at English if he didn't talk?

"Here it is," she said needlessly, just for the sake of breaking the silence. Emma bounded up the steps and pulled open her door, gesturing Ponyboy in after her. Calling over her shoulder for him to follow her, she headed to the kitchen where she could hear her mother.

She hopped up onto the counter and grabbed a freshly made chocolate chip cookie out of the jar, offering one to Ponyboy, before introducing her tutor.

"Mom, this is Ponyboy Curtis. He's offered to tutor me in English."

Her mom wiped her hands on a dishrag and turned to face the boy with a cheery smile. "Well isn't that nice of you, Ponyboy. We sure appreciate it. Emma just hates English, but maybe you can get her to change her mind."

Mrs. Mansfield waited, smiling, for the kid to say anything, but he just nodded. She didn't show her surprise though, and instead charged on with a new question. "Ponyboy, huh? Is that a nickname?"

"No ma'am," he mumbled.

Now Mrs. Mansfield did glance at her daughter, eyebrows raised a little, but Emma only shrugged and hopped off the counter. "We'll be in my room, Mom."

Ponyboy followed Emma down the hall and into a very pink room. There were frilly curtains on the window that he eyed warily, and a few porcelain dolls lined up on a shelf. For a single second, he felt a rush of anger, but it passed quickly. It didn't seem fair to him that this girl had everything so nice and he and his brothers had to scrape by just to live.

"So where should we start?" Emma asked, and Pony turned to see that she had settled herself onto the bed, cross-legged with her back against the pillows and a book open in front of her. She pushed her hair back from her face and tied it in a low ponytail with a white ribbon that was lying on her nightstand.

Ponyboy sat on the edge of her bed, a little uncomfortably, and looked through the papers that she gave him. They were all essays that she had written, and all had C's or D's written on the top in red ink. He read through them, and slowly started to loosen up. This was his element, and he knew what he was doing.

* * *

Not very much action, I admit, but it sets the wheels in motion and, hey, it's got one of the gang in it. Actually, two of the gang...

Anyway, let me know what you think. Do you think there should be a pairing? If so, with who? Anything specific you'd like to see happen? I can't promise it will, but a lot of times something someone says will spark an entirely new direction for the story.

Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 2

Okay, this one is still third person (which I'm hoping to use straight through the entire story) but the first little bit follows George Mansfield and the second kind of merges together, but is mainly focusing on Emma.

Any suggestions or constructive criticism or whatever are glady welcomed.

And the lyrics are from This Ride by The Starting Line.

* * *

_"What do you see when you look at me?"_

"Look, Tim, you know I enjoy these little meetings just as much as you do, but I've got a dinner to get home to. Just tell me what you know about the stolen Chevy, an' you can go," Mr. Mansfield said, resting his hands on the metal table and staring into the eldest Shepard's eyes. Most of the other kids he had worked with would look away real quick, but Timothy never did.

Instead, his black eyes stared straight into George's brown ones. "What makes you so sure I didn't steal it?" he drawled, balancing his chair on its back two feet.

"You may not be a saint, but you sure as hell aren't stupid either, and the person that took that car was dumber 'an a doorknob."

It was true, and George could readily admit it. Tim Shepard was smarter than almost anyone. Mr. Mansfield had seen him a lot in the two years that he'd been working with the Tulsa PD, and he could even admire the boy. True, he made his job a pain in the ass, but George still wanted to believe that maybe the boy would turn around one of these days, realize the error of his ways.

"Maybe you overestimate me," Tim shot back, raising his eyebrows a little.

George sighed and rubbed his temple. "Do you _want_ me to throw you in a cell for grand theft auto? Cause that's what you're askin' for. Now I know you didn't do it, so give me the name of the person who did and you can go."

"Alright, alright," Tim said, letting his chair drop back down to all fours and leaning forward. Mr. Mansfield subconsciously tilted towards him, ready to hear the name.

"So you got me, I didn't take the car…"

_But I know who did,_ George mentally prompted, waiting eagerly.

"But… what makes you think I know who did?"

George let out a frustrated sigh. This kid found fun in making things impossible. "Cause it was taken on your territory and you and I both know that you know everything that goes on in your neighborhood. Now stop bullshitting me, Shepard. I like you, kid, but I'm hungry and you don't wanna mess with me when I haven't eaten in a while."

He tried his best to give the kid a sharp look, but he knew it wasn't working. If Tim didn't want to tell who stole that Chevy, he wouldn't. And he clearly did not want to cooperate.

"Well, now, George, I just can't seem to remember… funny thing, that memory, ain't it?" He was smirking, and Mr. Mansfield knew that there was nothing else he could do.

So, with a slow, disappointed shake of his head, he gestured for Tim to stand up and strode over to the door of the interrogation cell. Just before he unlocked it, he turned back to look Shepard in the eye, "I suggest you tell your brother to stop pulling stupid pranks that'll get him into trouble, and if you decide that a good scaring by the cops will straighten him out, you give me a call. Understand?"

It was a long shot, but George was nearly sure that the car thief had been Curly Shepard. The kid wasn't nearly as smart as his brother, or if he was he hid it well. He was hoping to catch Tim off guard with his comment and get him to make some indication that George had gotten it right, but Tim Shepard was nothing if not sharp.

"I don't have a clue what you're talkin' about; go home, George, you obviously need some sleep."

It wasn't more than five minutes later that Tim was pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and ambling down the stairs to the police station, out into the sunlight.

George watched him for a minute, thinking about how sad it would be if Tim didn't get his act together and make something out of himself, but then he shook his head and grabbed his car keys to start the drive home.

Dinner was waiting.

* * *

By the time Mr. Mansfield got home at six, Pony and Emma were talking and laughing easily.

He stepped in the front door and hung up his cap and jacket, walking in to the kitchen. "What's for dinner?" he asked, giving his wife a kiss.

"Pot roast."

A burst of laughter sounded from down the hall, and he turned to look toward the noise with a frown. "What's goin' on?" He asked.

His wife smiled happily, "Emma's got a friend over. He's helping her with English."

"He?" Mr. Mansfield's voice instantly got a little gruffer, and his wife only swatted him playfully on the arm.

"He's a very nice boy. Shier than all get out, but a sweet boy nonetheless. Don't you go barging in there and scare him, ya hear me?"

Mr. Mansfield put on his best innocent face and wandered on out of the kitchen. "I just want to say hi to my daughter, Diane." He straightened his shiny gold police badge and adjusted his gun holster just before he knocked and walked in, falling into the protective father role he had never had to play before.

This was the first boy he'd heard of his stepdaughter associating with, and it made him nervous. She was sixteen, just a baby, really.

"Em, I'm ho—oh, well now, who's this?" he asked, as if he hadn't already known.

His eyes studied the boy carefully, noticing the way he instantly tensed. The kid's face was hard, defensive, but his eyes were young and innocent. His hair was greased back and he wore jeans and a tee shirt. This was no Debate Club president, that was for sure. Still, even though his police experience told him the kid might be dangerous, George Mansfield's instinct told him not to overreact.

Besides, after spending half the day with the oldest Shepard boy, George felt that this kid was a relief.

Emma hopped up from the bed and came over to give her father a hug. She pushed up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Dad, this is Ponyboy Curtis. He's helping me with English. Ponyboy, this is my stepdad."

Pony nodded warily but didn't say anything, to Emma's surprise. He had been talking easily with her for two hours at least, and had even spoken with her mom when she had brought in a snack for them. So why was he suddenly so quiet again?

Mr. Mansfield, seeing that his presence was bothering the kid, excused himself and returned to the kitchen. He was still frowning over it when his wife looked up at him.

"What is it?"

"That kid, Diane, I'm not sure about him…"

She sighed and rolled her eyes a little, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"No, I'm serious. He's too nervous around me…" George insisted, peering around the wall toward his stepdaughter's room.

"Maybe you scared him," she said accusingly.

"Exactly!" George whispered loudly. "He's afraid of the police. Doesn't that seem suspicious to you?"

Diane turned away from the stove, wiping her hands on a tea towel, "He's just a kid, George. Now I like him just fine so you leave him alone." She gave her husband a stern glance and the middle-aged man looked slightly humbled.

Perhaps his wife was right. Maybe he was overreacting.

After a few more minutes, Diane Mansfield started setting the table.

"Go tell the kids it's ready, will you, Honey? And ask Emma's friend if he'd like to stay for supper."

George told his son first, who hurried off to where the food was, ruled by his stomach. Then he frowned a little and plastered a smile to his face as he opened Emma's door. "Dinner's ready. Ponyboy, you're welcome to stay and eat."

The kid's smile instantly disappeared as George walked in, and he just stood, shaking his head. "Why not, Ponyboy? It's the least we can do, after you helped me so much."

"Naw, I oughta get back home anyway. My brother'll skin me if I ain't home by dinnertime. I'll see you in school tomorrow."

He gathered his books up and gave Emma a little smile and George a stiff nod as he walked out. George raised an eyebrow at his daughter, but she shrugged. "Oh no, his money! I forgot to pay him, Dad!"

Mr. Mansfield, at his daughter's insistence, hurried out the front door after the kid and jogged up to him. "Son, wait!"

Ponyboy stopped dead in his tracks and turned slowly to face him. "We forgot to pay you." George pulled a dollar bill out of his wallet and started to hand it to the kid, but Pony's face darkened.

"I don't need your money."

For a second, George was taken aback, surprised at how upset this boy seemed. "I didn't say that, Son, but you helped my daughter and it's only right that I pay you."

Grudgingly, Pony took the bill and stuffed it in his pocket before starting his walk home again, leaving Mr. Mansfield standing in the yard with a confused frown on his face.


	4. Chapter 3

Long time no see! It's a short chapter without a lot of action, but I'm hoping it'll spur more and I'll be able to post a more exciting chapter later.

Thanks for all the reviews, I love the feedback.

Any suggestions or constructive criticism are always welcome.

The lyrics are from Seventeen Ain't So Sweet by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Very good song.

* * *

_There's a fire in your eyes / and I hope you let it burn_

Emma gazed blankly at the back of the guy's head who sat in front of her in her History class. The teacher was droning on about the dates of the Civil War, and she was b-o-r-e-d.

"Miss Mansfield, can you tell us what the final battle in the Civil War was?" The teacher asked, her back to the class as she wrote on the chalkboard.

Emma, in another world altogether, didn't pay attention, thinking instead of her next tutoring session with Ponyboy. They hadn't made another appointment or anything formal like that, so maybe he didn't intend to help her again. She certainly couldn't blame him… he was probably frustrated with her utter lack of comprehension when it came to English class.

Not to mention how strange he'd acted there at the end. Something had upset him… had she said something wrong? She tried to think back and remember what they'd been discussing, but the only things that came to mind were her essays. They'd _barely_ strayed from the topic of English.

"Miss Mansfield?" The teacher called her again, turning around to see what the delay was. A few heads from the front of the class swiveled around to watch her.

Emma decided she would just leave Ponyboy alone unless he specifically said something to her. She didn't want to seem needy or clingy or anything like that. She cert—

"Ow," Emma turned to glare at the boy behind her who had rudely kicked the back of her chair. A dark haired greaser with a long, fresh scar climbing down his cheek was staring at his desk, picking at the wood with his dirty fingernails. He glanced up at her, his coal black eyes chilly, and she quickly turned back to the front.

"Emma?" The teacher's voice was sharp, and Emma was suddenly aware that she had missed something. "Can you tell us what the final battle in the Civil War was?"

A pink blush creeping up her cheeks, she shook her head. "No ma'am, I can't."

"I suggest you spend more time staring at your books and less time staring at Mr. Randle until you catch up, then."

The class snickered and the black-haired greaser in front of her shifted uncomfortably in his seat. From across the class, a dark-eyed girl, the greaser's girlfriend, Emma remembered, scowled at her.

As she watched, the girl very deliberately lifted her middle finger at Emma, and smirked when Emma's eyes widened in surprise and dropped quickly to her desk.

For the rest of the class, Emma kept her eyes trained on her History book, determined not to get in another situation like _that_ again. It was embarrassing enough one time through, thanks very much.

When the bell rang, she bolted from her seat and squeezed out the door just before a group of Socs slipped out, thanking all that was holy that she didn't have any more interactions with the quiet boy behind her (Cade or something?) or Steve Randle in front of her, and especially with his girlfriend Evie.

The last thing she needed was to get that bubble-gum-chewing, red-nailed, jealous, clingy, bitchy girl to hate her any more.

* * *

"—and so Jane comes home an hour after curfew, and then when I ask her what she was doin' for that extra hour, she got mad at me for—get this—invading her privacy! This boyfriend can't be any good, I'm tellin' ya George, keep Emma away from dating for as long as you can. The second a boy waltzes into her life, all sense will go flying outta her mind," Charlie warned sagely, sipping his coffee now that he was done with his story.

George was driving the squad car, cruising slowly down the Ribbon and listening to his partner complain. He yawned widely. It was one in the afternoon, and Tulsa wasn't the most happening place in the country. Usually, their days consisted of writing traffic violations.

The only time their days strayed from the ordinary were whenever anything involving Tim Shepard was going down. Since George and Charlie were so well acquainted with the boy after questioning and hounding him for two years, they were generally called to deal with him. Tim was the first kid that George interacted with his first day on the job in Tulsa, actually.

At the time, Tim had been just sixteen, but already well on his way to the notoriety he held now. Charlie and George had been cruising the North streets when they spotted a crowd of kids circling a fight. They pulled over and trained their headlights on the group, and pushed their way through the crowd, yelling at everyone to move on. Just as the two were reaching the front, they heard glass breaking, a string of curses, and a gasp from some of the people in the crowd. Charlie and George glanced at each other and ran up to the two fighters.

One had dark curly hair and was wearing jeans and a dirty white tee shirt. He had blood flowing freely from a long cut on his face, running onto his lips, his tee shirt, the cement… He didn't seem to notice though, and was swinging calm, calculated punches at his opponent, who was clearly a homeless drunk, his clothes wrinkled and his face unshaven. He was at least halfway sober, though, because his eyes were clear and focused on the boy.

Charlie quickly grabbed the tramp's arms and pulled him away and George took hold of the boy, Tim Shepard, he'd learn later. They got them a good ten feet away, and then Tim yanked his arms out of George's grasp and shrugged. "Don't go anywhere, Son," George told him firmly, and was relatively surprised, and relieved, when he stayed put. Tim wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and then shook the red blood from his fingers onto the pavement.

Turning his head, he spat on the ground, more blood than saliva landing on the cement, and watched the tramp. Charlie was reprimanding the guy, warning him of the consequences if he was caught in another fight, and George took in the shattered glass pieces littering the area where they had been fighting.

George turned back to his charge and winced at the still-gushing cut on Tim's face. George took the guy's arm and led him to the patrol car, and rooted around in the side pocket on the passenger side, pulling out a towel. "Here," he handed it to Tim, who set it to his face to sop up some of the blood.

Once he pulled it away, George looked at the cut again and grimaced, realizing then that it wasn't just a small wound. The skin was broken from his temple straight to his chin, and it was a deep cut from the looks of it.

Charlie sent the hobo on his way and sauntered up to George and Tim. "Ouch," he said, "looks like that'll need stitches. Better take you on to the hospital."

"It ain't nothin'," the boy said, but Charlie shook his head.

"Just let us drop you at the hospital, and if you decide to wander on into the ER, then so be it, but if it stops bleeding so badly or you just don't want to go in, then we won't make you," Charlie bargained.

The guy narrowed his eyes, but slid into the back of the patrol car anyway, and they dropped him at the hospital. He had chosen not to go in, stubborn as he was, which is probably why he still has that scar. The next time George saw Tim after that, he had one hell of a bad home-stitches job, and the cut never quite healed right. Not that it matters much to Tim either way.

"Remember my first day here?" George asked Charlie randomly, feeling like sharing the very-old memory with him.

He chuckled, "oh yeah. That was definitely a fun night," he said sarcastically.

After that day, though, George and Charlie wound up seeing Tim a lot. Occasionally, he would seek them out, treating them as his unofficial representation on the force. But most of the time, they were meeting on less sanctioned terms, usually breaking up a fight or responding to a civilian complaint, several of which centered around Tim. They literally watched him form his gang and establish his authority in Tulsa.

No one else in the station wanted to touch him, but Charlie and George had seen him from the beginning, and George preferred to deal with him himself than let another officer talk to him—especially since a lot of the Tulsa officers were a little happy with their night sticks and Tim was just enough of a pain in the ass to warrant what he got.

George had some crazy notion that there was more to Tim Shepard than his criminal record. Sometimes he was sure he was wrong, like when they'd have to cuff Tim and haul him to trial for a robbery or a fight, where the other guy would barely come through alive, but then there were those other times when you could see something else there. The pride etched in his scarred face, a vague and somewhat twisted sense of honor… he had his own code that he lived by, and it wasn't quite conventional or always legal, but it was something anyway.

"Speak of the devil…" Charlie muttered, flipping on the siren and pulling over to the side of the road. George sighed and got out, preparing himself to take Tim back to the station.

"Break it up, boys."


	5. Chapter 4

Heh, I'm back again. Relatively short chapter without too much craziness, but I think there will be another update within the next week, so be on the look out for it. If everything lines up right, the action should start picking up here pretty soon.

As always, suggestions or construction criticism are gladly welcome.

The lyrics are from American't by Yellowcard, and the characters you recognize are from S.E. Hinton's The Outsiders. I only own what you don't recognize.

* * *

_But now the times are changing / are you gonna stay the same?_

Emma picked at her food with boredom, sighing as she set her chin in the palm of her hand. She really wasn't that hungry, but she still had the rest of the lunch period stretched out before her with nothing to do.

There was a slight commotion over by the cafeteria doors, but she didn't bother to glance over. There was always some hollering when the greasers walked through the lunchroom to the exit doors on the other side. You'd be hard pressed to find a North side kid who stayed in the school for lunch. She had no idea where they went, but they sure as hell didn't stay in the same vicinity as the Socs.

A shadow fell over Emma and she glanced up, surprised to see Ponyboy standing in front of her, shifting from foot to foot. "H-hi," she greeted, and he nodded.

"Meet me at the front steps of the school after your last class and we can figure out this tutoring thing," he said, making a concentrated effort not to mumble.

"Okay," she agreed, sure that she was flushed pink with pleasant surprise.

She didn't get a response though, as he was already walking off again, hurrying to meet that Randle boy who was waiting impatiently by the doors outside.

She was still grinning a little as she looked back down at her food.

* * *

Ponyboy was sitting on the front steps, his feet stretched out in front of him and his head leaned back against he brick wall, when Emma walked up after school. He got to his feet quickly, dropping a lit cigarette on the ground and stomping on it with his sneaker. Emma frowned at the weed, but said only, "ready?"

He nodded, and the two set off toward her house. "So I'm thinking if we just tutor three days a week, Monday, Wednesday and Friday or so, then we'll be okay. How often do you want to get paid? Every day or every week or what?"

He shrugged. "Ev'ry week is fine."

"Okay."

"We should probably find a better place to tutor though."

Emma glanced at him, surprised. "Like where?"

"The library or the school or somethin'."

She wondered what his problem was with her house, but she was too embarrassed to ask, so she just shrugged in agreement and they walked most of the rest of the way in silence.

"I don't mean nothin' by it," Pony said finally, breaking the quiet.

Emma just nodded, not sure what to say, and kept looking straight ahead. They were only about five minutes from her house now.

"I really ain't tryin' to be mean…" Ponyboy offered again, and she shrugged.

"Okay," she said.

He sighed, figuring she was angry since she was barely talking. "Emma…"

"It's okay, Pony. We'll find somewhere else to tutor. I just don't understand why you don't wanna use my place… I know it isn't perfect, but it's pretty nice, I thought."

"It is."

"Does this have somethin' to do with my stepdad?" She asked with a sharp edge, finally glancing over to look at him.

He gave her a sideways look and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his track jacket. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you were real mean to him yesterday."

At this, Ponyboy stared at her, "I wasn't mean."

"Yes you were. You would hardly talk to him, and he tried to talk to you."

Pony blinked a couple times before finally responding, just as Emma's house came into view. "I didn't mean to be rude."

She just shrugged and pulled open her front door, walking in with him right on her heels. Emma went straight back to her room and shut the door behind Pony, who perched on the foot of her bed. "What do you want to work on today?" She asked, with a little sass still to her voice.

"Emma, c'mon. Your dad seems nice enough. I just ain't had the best experiences with people like him."

She bristled instantly. "People like _what_, Ponyboy?"

He groaned, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket and wishing he could light a cigarette. "Tulsa cops. I just ain't comfortable around them, okay?" He snapped.

Emma stared at him for a few minutes, one hand still set on her hip, before she let it drop. "Why?"

Ponyboy shrugged awkwardly and pulled her English Literature book over to him, opening it to Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, which they were reading now.

"Have you read any of this yet?" He asked, and Emma was quiet for a second, waiting for him to answer her previous question. When he didn't, she softened slightly and answered him with a shake of her head.

"Okay, start from the first paragraph, reading it aloud."

* * *

When George came home from work that day, tired after dealing with Tim _again_, the comforting scent of vegetable soup met his watering mouth.

He came up behind his wife quietly, wrapping his arms around her and she jumped a little, startled, and then relaxed into his hold. "You gonna arrest me?"

"Mm, well let me get my handcuffs…"

Diane laughed and swatted his arm in reprimand, turning around to face him so her back was to the stove. "How was work?" She asked after planting a light kiss on his lips.

"Long."

"Well this is just about ready if you wanna tell the kids."

George ambled off to Roger's room first, ruffling his hair. "Hey kid. Go on and help your mother set the table for dinner."

"But I'm reading!" Mr. Mansfield glanced at the Spiderman comic book cover and grinned, pulling it from his son's hands and swatting him playfully on the head with it.

"You can finish after dinner."

Roger stalked into the kitchen grumbling beneath his breath. "Don't make me take you in for slander!' He hollered after his son with a chuckle.

Then he headed to Emma's room, pausing outside the door as he heard two voices, one of which was male. That Ponykid must be over again, he thought, leaning closer to the door as he tried to make out their soft voices. The only words he picked up on were "rose," and "love."

George pushed open the door, a fake smile plastered on his face. "What're you two kids up to?" He asked, sure that his voice betrayed his eavesdropping.

His daughter looked at him with a happy smile gracing her face. "Pony's helping me understand Romeo and Juliet."

"I see," George replied, feeling a little silly. "Well, dinner is just about ready. Ponyboy, you're welcome to join if you'd like."

Ponyboy wasn't quite meeting Mr. Mansfield's eyes and he started to shake his head before he caught the look on Emma's face.

"Uh, no thank you Sir. I better get on home."

"Well I'd be happy to give you a ride if you like."

Pony's eyes widened a little at the thought of how his brother would react if he came home in a cop car, and he declined the offer. "No thanks. I like the walk. I'll see you at school tomorrow, Emma."

She nodded and saw him to the door, waving good-bye as he started his walk North.

When she turned back to her stepdad again, there was a small frown marring her face. "Hey Dad?" She bit her lip, and then shook her head, "never mind."

"What is it, Emma?"

"It's nothing. Forget about it," she grinned at him and wandered off to the kitchen, leaving him with a wrinkle in his brow.


	6. Chapter 5

Another chapter within the week! Don't die from shock...

As always, any suggestions or constructive criticism is welcome.

I do not own any familiar characters, situations or places. The lyrics are from Let Go by Frou Frou.

* * *

_"So jump in / oh well what are you waitin' for?"_

The next day was Wednesday, and Emma and Ponyboy had decided they would tutor again, even though it would be the third time that week. Of course, she still had no idea where they would go since he didn't want to be at her house.

The fact that he was nervous around cops made Emma a little nervous. She'd been taught not to fear them because they were around to help. Living with a stepfather that worked with the Police Department, she'd learned that the only people that should be anxious around someone in uniform is someone who has something to be nervous about.

Ponyboy seemed like a nice boy to her, but she wondered what scared him about her stepdad. Maybe he'd been in trouble with the law, or maybe he stole or vandalized property … her mind was running with possibilities. None of them, however, scared her enough to consider cutting off contact with him. She was slightly fascinated by him, if only because she knew nothing about him and he was so different from her.

Which was why when he hesitantly offered his house for their tutoring session, she agreed. She could tell from the way he said it, with so little enthusiasm, that he didn't really want her to go to his place, but apparently being at hers was the worse option in his mind.

She started the walk North with him in silence, her eyes big as the houses around them got smaller and more run-down. From the street, they could hear someone yelling in one house, and Emma pulled her books a little closer to her, wondering how much farther they had to walk. She sneaked a glance sideways at Pony and looked away quickly when she saw his embarrassed blush.

As if he read her mind, Ponyboy spoke up, "it's right up there." He pointed to a small house up the road to their left, with a rusted chain link fence in front.

When they reached it, Pony opened the gate for her and she followed him up the walkway, stepping hesitantly over the threshold and into his world.

The screen door slammed behind Emma, and she jumped a little, clutching her books as she glanced around the living room. The house was quiet, and Ponyboy led her to the kitchen. She set her books on the table and sat down in a chair that had one leg shorter than the others. She rocked it back and forth out of nerves.

"Where is everybody?" she asked in a hushed voice, strangely hesitant to break the quiet atmosphere.

"My brothers won't get home from work for another two hours or so," Pony answered in a normal voice.

"What about your parents?"

Ponyboy shook a cigarette out of a pack he kept in his pocket and fiddled with it. "They're dead," he said quietly, not meeting her eyes.

"Oh!" Emma gasped, startled and embarrassed. She was sure her face must be bright pink.

But Ponyboy gave her no chance to say anything else, jumping right into their tutoring session. He pulled Emma's English book over to him and flipped it open to Romeo and Juliet again. Emma stared down at the book on the table between them, trying to concentrate on what Pony was saying…

* * *

"Ponyboyyy!" A golden-haired god tackled Emma's tutor, causing his chair to skid back a few tiles. The boy had him in a headlock, and Emma stared with huge eyes. Pony threw a punch at his gut, and the boy doubled down for a second, loosening his grip enough that Ponyboy could slip his arms off from around his neck.

"Cut it out Soda," he said as he stood up, trying to look mean but Emma caught the small twitch of his lips as he tried not to grin. The other boy obviously saw this as well, and he just laughed and ruffled Ponyboy's hair.

He looked over at Emma with surprise, seeming to notice her for the first time. "Well now Pony, I didn't know we had comp'ny…" There was a playful tone to his voice and he winked exaggeratedly at Ponyboy, nudging him in the gut with his elbow.

"Sodapop, this is Emma. I'm tutoring her in English," Pony mumbled.

"Well why didn't you say so! Mighty good to meet you Emma," he said with a charming grin. Emma could barely take her eyes from his beautiful face. The boy was wearing a grease-stained, blue, button-up DX shirt over a pair of jeans, and Emma managed to make the association that this was the dreamy boy that she'd heard a few girls mention before.

She blushed when she realized he was still smiling at her and managed to stutter out a response. "Nice to meet you too."

"Well I'll just let you all get back to your work," he said smoothly, glancing from Pony to Emma and back before sauntering out the kitchen and disappearing around a corner.

Ponyboy glanced over at Emma. "Sorry. Anyway, Shakespeare was trying to emphasize the power of love…"

Emma tried real hard to listen to what he was saying, but she was slightly distracted by the noise coming from the other side of the house. She heard a thump as something fell and some cursing. Ponyboy was ignoring all of this like it was nothing new, and she marveled at how different this was from her own life.

It wasn't five minutes later that Sodapop wandered back into the kitchen, dressed in the same jeans and a plain white tee shirt this time. "Don't mind me," he said when Ponyboy looked at him pointedly. "I'm just startin' on dinner." He walked over the fridge, whistling a jaunty tune.

"Soda…" Ponyboy started with a warning tone, even though he was smiling, but then the screen door slammed shut and Ponyboy threw up his hands and leaned back in his chair with a sigh of resignation.

A moment later, a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped in the kitchen doorway, a tool belt tied around his waist. He was wearing a tight tee shirt and Emma was sure she was staring at his impressive muscles.

"Soda, we have company?" The man asked, and Sodapop grinned and shrugged.

"Ask Ponyboy. He's tutoring her."

The man dropped his gaze to Pony, who nodded. "I _was _anyway. With you two clowns home I doubt we'll be able to get anything done."

The man just grinned. "Probably just as well. You better be startin' on your own homework soon."

Ponyboy sighed and looked back at Emma, "Sorry. Emma, this is my oldest brother Darry."

Emma stood up and offered her hand for him to shake, which he took with a look of pleasant surprise. "It's nice to meet you Emma."

"You too Mr. Curtis."

He chuckled. "You c'n just call me Darry."

She nodded and sat back down, smoothing her knee-length skirt with her hands, a nervous habit of hers.

"Emma, you're welcome to stay for dinner," Darry said, but the tail end of his offer was drowned out by the _whoosh_ of a flame rising up from the stove. Soda yelped and beat it out with a towel and a sheepish grin.

Darry rolled his eyes and popped him in the back of the head.

"Thank you, but I better be getting home," Emma replied.

"I'll give you a lift," Darry said.

She was quick to shake her head, "that's nice of you, but it's not too far of a walk." It would probably take her twenty minutes or so to get on home, and it wasn't yet dark.

Darry exchanged a look with Ponyboy. "I insist. You shouldn't be walking the streets alone."

Emma glanced over at Ponyboy with confusion, and he dropped his gaze to the tabletop. "Just ain't really safe," he mumbled.

"Okay. I'll just grab my books," she said, feeling a little shiver of anxiety.

Darry nodded and walked out to get his keys, and Ponyboy helped her get everything together. "You still want to meet on Friday?" He asked.

"If it's alright with you," she said without even stopping to think about it. "I'm sure I can get my dad to pick me up on his way back from work next time."

"Don't worry about it," Ponyboy offered quickly, glancing over at Soda's back.

She shrugged. "We'll talk about it later."

"See you Friday."

Emma walked over to the living room where Darry was waiting and followed him down the walkway to a rusted pick-up truck.

She climbed in and set her books on the dash, clicking her seatbelt on first thing. Then she waited quietly with her hands folded in her lap as Darry started up the engine. The ride was silent, save for Emma's soft-spoken directions.

When Darry pulled up to her house, she thanked him for the ride, and hopped out, glancing at the yard and noticing that her dad hadn't yet arrived home.

* * *

George Mansfield was just finishing up his shift, and he wasn't late getting off this time, which was always a rare occurrence. He was looking forward to going home and seeing his family, but there was just one thing he had to do before he left…

He let the door to the records room fall shut behind him and walked over to the metal filing cabinets, adjusting his holster, a nervous habit.

With a careful sigh, George opened the third drawer of the first cabinet. C, the label read.

He flipped through the files to the back. "C-o, c-r…c-u," he mumbled beneath his breath.

He looked through the Curtis files that were there, but there was no Ponyboy. He caught sight of one that read Sodapop though, and figured it would be too great a coincidence if those two came from different families. Pulling out the file and flipping it open, George read briefly through the information. Arrested for Disturbing the Public. That was the only mark on his file.

George frowned thoughtfully and put the folder up, leaving the room just as another officer walked in. He nodded a polite greeting and kept walking.

Well, either Ponyboy didn't do anything wrong, or he just never got caught…

George shook his head at himself, cutting off that line of reasoning. He was being paranoid, and he recognized this. Hell, the kid could probably have been the captain of the chess team and he still would have pulled his file.

Resolving to leave well enough alone, George set his thoughts instead on the lovely wife and family that awaited him at home.


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **Sorry! But hey, this is an unusually long chapter for this story, I think, so maybe that makes up for the wait? And thanks to all the reviewers that pushed me to update; that was definitely a good motivation behind this new chapter. Oh by the way, the reason this was pulled together tonight was to take part in this cool little Good Fic Day thing that Mars on Fire has going on.

All comments and constructive criticism is welcome.

The lyrics are from Jon Mclaughlin.

* * *

_"And she would change everything for happy ever after / caught in the in between of beautiful disaster / but she just needs someone to take her home"_

Emma woke up the next morning and knew instantly she felt different. Something was off… something had changed.

It took her a second to realize that her dread for school was missing. She wondered if Ponyboy would stop to talk to her on his way out to lunch, and she wondered if it would be weird if she said hi to him in the halls.

For once, she felt that glimmer of possibility that made school bearable for the rest of the students. Oh yes, she had certainly changed a little, and she wasn't the only one to notice.

"Bye Dad!" She grabbed her bag and left, an easy smile on her face and a little sparkle in her eyes.

George sat at the dining room table with a coffee mug in his hands, watching the door fall shut behind his daughter and musing over her new attitude.

"What's got Emma in such a good mood today?" He asked his wife when she walked back to the dining room with a coffee mug for herself. Diane settled into a chair comfortably and beamed.

"Nothing particular. I think this tutor is really getting her spirits up."

"Huh," George sat back in his seat, surprised. Obviously he had been overreacting. This Ponyboy was making Emma happier, and he needn't worry about her falling in with a bad crowd. She was a sharp kid with a good head on her shoulders, and he was fairly confident that he had no reason for concern. He could stand to respect her judgment. After all, she had never given him any reason to doubt her.

Mr. Mansfield didn't have much time to ponder this, though, because Diane broke into his thoughts, "Can you take Roger to school this morning?"

George took another sip of his coffee. "If he can be ready in five minutes."

Diane nodded and set her cup down, heading to Roger's room to tell him to hustle.

It wasn't more than two minutes later that Roger skidded into the kitchen "I'm ready to go Dad." He always looked forward to spending time with his father, and getting to ride in the police car was always a treat.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Sweetie, are you sure you don't want anything? I can whip up some eggs or bacon real quick for you…" Mrs. Mansfield cut in, following her son into the kitchen with a worried frown darkening her face.

"No thanks," Roger replied, and his father just shrugged.

"Alright. Let's go Son."

George got up and kissed his wife on the cheek, ignoring the groan from his son, and ruffled Roger's hair on his way past. The boy gave his mom a quick hug and trotted along after his dad to the squad car.

"Can you turn on the lights?" Roger asked hopefully.

"Nope."

"What about the sirens?"

"Nope."

Roger heaved a sigh and scooted into the passenger seat, waving bye at his mom who was watching from the doorway as Mr. Mansfield pulled out onto the street.

The ride was mostly silent, and George glanced over at his son every so often, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "How's school going, Son?"

Roger answered with a shrug and turned to stare out the passenger side window.

"That good, huh?" George muttered with a chuckle. "All your subjects going okay? You understand everything the teacher says?"

"Yeah Dad," Roger answered, and George nodded.

It seemed to Mr. Mansfield that there was something on the boy's mind, but he didn't seem quite ready to talk about it. So instead of pushing it, George decided to let it slide. After all, he could just be imagining it in the first place.

"Have a good day at school," George told his son as he pulled up to the school. Roger grabbed his bag and hopped out.

"Bye Dad," And then he was trudging off to the front doors of the school building. His little feet seemed to drag.

* * *

Over at the high school, Emma was anything but dragging. She was jumpy the entire day through, her eyes bright and her cheeks pink.

At lunch, she craned her head to check the entire cafeteria for Ponyboy, wondering if he would stop by where she was sitting. After ten minutes, she finally gave up and picked at her lunch.

A few minutes later, the doors to the outside of the cafeteria slammed shut and she looked up to see Ponyboy's back as he walked away with Two-Bit and Steve and the black haired boy that sat behind her… the one that kicked her seat. She had missed him, and he hadn't stopped. But she didn't really blame him; he'd been with his friends, after all.

It was only at the end of the school day that Emma worked up the courage to approach Ponyboy herself. She'd passed him in the halls a few times, but somehow she never seemed to catch his eye. Either she would look away, embarrassed, or he would never glance over at her.

She was determined, however, to not give up the chance at a tentative friendship just because she was too nervous to say hi. So when she spotted him at his locker down the hall after her last period, she sucked in a deep breath and began the walk toward him.

Emma was almost at his locker when Two-Bit crept up behind Pony and leaped at him, causing Pony to turn around and sock him out of a natural reaction. Emma put her head down and kept walking, but Ponyboy glanced over and saw her, pausing to smile and wave before he turned to Two-Bit. "C'mon, quit foolin' around…"

Emma was sure her face was on fire, blushing just because he waved at her. She acknowledged how sad it was that she was so easily affected just when someone looked her way now… but she'd gone so long without even being noticed that to be recognized seemed like a great and unusual feat.

* * *

When Friday came around, Emma joined Ponyboy at the steps to the front of the school. He was smoking again, and she frowned, "Don't you know that'll kill you?"

Pony looked at her for a minute and then shrugged. "Ever'one dies someday."

"Some sooner than others," Emma shot back, before glancing away and stepping away from the school. "Are we walking to your place again?"

"Sure," Pony mumbled, falling into step beside Emma.

After a few minutes of silence, Emma spoke up, "Any big plans for the weekend?"

Ponyboy shrugged and sneaked a glance at her. "Naw. Just the usual. You?"

Emma cracked a wry smile, "Same."

When they reached Pony's house, he pulled the screen door open and held it for Emma, who ducked under his arm and into the dim house. Pony flicked on a light switch, leading Emma to the kitchen again.

She pulled out the same chair as last time and set her books on the table. "Mind if I use your phone to let my dad know where to pick me up?"

Pony's fingers hovered over the Language book he had been leafing through. He hesitated and then kept flipping pages, not lifting his head. "That's alright. My brother won't mind driving you."

"If you're sure…" Emma responded hesitantly.

"Yea. Don't worry about it. Alright, how'd you do on that quiz yesterday?"

The two launched into discussion of syntax, and by the time they finished with the homework for the weekend and a review of the class work since their last session, it was five in the evening.

Emma stretched her feet out in front of her, yawning, and Ponyboy pushed his chair back and stood. "You want somethin' to drink?" He asked, pouring himself a glass of water.

"Sure. Water's fine."

He nodded and handed her a glass of ice water before hopping up onto the counter. Swinging his legs lightly against the wood, he drank almost half the glass in a few gulps. Emma took her time, sipping daintily with her pinky finger raised away from the glass, an old habit.

"Oh, here's $3, to cover Tuesday, Wednesday and today," Emma spoke up, pulling the bills from the back pocket on her khaki skirt and handing them to Ponyboy, who mumbled a polite thanks and stuffed the bills into his jeans pocket.

Ponyboy hopped down from the counter as he finished his glass and set it in the sink. Emma handed him her empty glass and then sat sideways in the kitchen chair, leaning against the wooden back on her left.

The screen door slammed shut unexpectedly, and she jumped, startled. Pony didn't even turn around from the sink, ignoring the burst of noise as Two-Bit and Steve stumbled in.

Emma watched through the doorway as Steve fell onto the couch, and then his feet hanging off the edge were the only things she could see from her vantage point. Two-Bit took a step into the living room and then glanced off-handedly into the kitchen and stopped in his tracks. "Miss Emma?" He walked into the kitchen.

She blushed as Pony turned around, and Two-Bit glanced between the two of them, a knowing grin covering his face.

Emma glanced back at her tutor, and his neck was redder than hers.

"Sorry to interrupt…" Two-Bit winked exaggeratedly.

"Cut it out, Two-Bit. I'm tutoring her."

He cackled, "Yeah yeah, sure… in Human Anatomy."

Emma dropped her eyes to the floor, her cheeks flaming, and she saw Ponyboy flip Two-Bit the bird from the corner of her eye.

Steve ambled into the doorway then, running an eye over the room. "Well, well, well."

Somehow, when it was Steve saying it, it came out a bit rougher than Two-Bit's teasing, and Ponyboy bristled.

"Why don't y'all two clowns just leave us alone? We were _studying_. I reckon you guys don't even know what that word means," Pony said, glaring at Steve and Two-Bit.

Emma stayed quiet.

"Kid's getting kinda mouthy, ain't he?" Steve griped, but he lost interest and walked back to the living room, and the TV clicked on a second later.

Two-Bit held up his hands in mock surrender, "Alright. I won't even mention how defensive you are…"

"Two-Bit…"

"Okay okay," Two-Bit said hastily, straddling the back of the chair next to Emma. "Well Miss Emma, how are you? In a better mood than the kid, over there, I hope?"

Emma offered a tentative smile, "I'm well." She crossed one leg over the other and smoothed her skirt down.

He chuckled at her propriety, and Emma blushed, aware that he was laughing at her.

"You're turning mighty red there, Miss Em," he said with amusment.

As if that did anything to help her embarrassment. She glanced back at where Ponyboy had been standing a minute ago, but he had wandered into the living room, leaving her alone with Two-Bit.

There was a minute of silence in which Emma was infinitely uncomfortable but Two-Bit seemed nonplussed. He set his chin on the back of the chair and observed her with amusement, and she shifted awkwardly beneath his steady gaze, her eyes darting anywhere around the room except at him. Finally, she made eye contact, but she couldn't hold it longer than a few seconds before she dropped her eyes again. With a low chuckle, he reached over and tapped the bottom of her chin lightly. She froze and looked up at his face.

"You don't gotta be so nervous. I don't bite."

Emma smiled a little, feeling a bit reassured.

"I mean, unless you're into that…" Two-Bit continued, breaking into a wide grin, and Emma laughed nervously, but sincerely.

Ponboy walked back into the kitchen. "Sorry Emma. Darry should be home soon."

"Whatcha need Superman for?" Two-Bit asked lightly, looking up at Pony. Emma was thankful he didn't pose the question to her because she just blinked stupidly. It took her a moment to comprehend what he had asked.

"The truck. He's gonna drive Emma home."

Two-Bit frowned. "So what you're really sayin' is that you need a fine, upstanding citizen with a car to drive this foxy lady to her house…"

Ponyboy just shook his head, "I think somethin' got a little lost in the translation there…"

Two-Bit continued, acting as if Ponyboy had never spoken. "You know, Sally Sue is parked idly on the curb, just waiting for a task…"

Emma just watched the two, her eyes bouncing back and forth from one to the other. "I'd kinda appreciate it if she actually made it to her house, Two-Bit."

Two-Bit clutched his heart in mock pain. "I'm hurt, Pony. I've never once gotten a speeding ticket."

"Only 'cause you outran the cops last time they tried to pull ya over."

Emma's heart skipped a beat then-who outruns the police?-and Ponyboy's ears reddened as he realized what he'd said in front of her.

Two-Bit was out of the loop and unconcerned, though, and he just shrugged nonchalantly and turned to Emma. "Well ma'am, it looks like the decision is up to you. Do you wanna wait around for a few minutes or hours or days for Darrel to get back and then have a perfectly dull ride to your house, or would you like for me to give you the ride of your life?" He wiggled his eyebrows enticingly.

"Umm…" Emma glanced at Ponyboy who shrugged and then back to Two-Bit. "That's fine, I suppose."

"Alright," he jumped up and grabbed all the books from the table in one quick swoop. Ponyboy hastily reached over and took his from the stack Two-Bit held, and then her driver was striding quickly to the door. Emma took a step after him and then turned back to Pony.

"Thanks, Ponyboy. I'll see you Monday," and then she hurried after Two-Bit, who was already halfway down the walk by then. He opened the passenger door for her with a flourish, handing her the books once she was sitting primly in the seat.

She set them on the dash and reached for her seatbelt, buckling it and then grabbing the books again as Two-Bit slid in.

"Okay Emma, hold tight." Her heart leapt to her throat as the car roared to life. Two-Bit slammed the gas pedal and it lurched forward.

Closing her eyes tightly, she gripped her books with white knuckles as she felt the car speed up. _Too fast_, she thought. She sneaked a tentative peek at the window to her right, and quickly shut her eyes again the second she saw the flying scenery.

"So where am I goin'?"

"Turn left onto Jamestown," she choked out.

It wasn't near long enough that she heard the tires squeal as Two-Bit turned. She quickly opened her eyes to check their location, and sure enough, he had followed her directions. He glanced over at her and grinned, "havin' fun?"

Emma shot him a death glare, and he laughed, but let up on the gas pedal anyway. Once they were going just ten over, Emma's muscles relaxed a little bit and she managed to look out the window without getting nauseated.

"Okay, take 4th down to Harvard."

Two-Bit obeyed, tapping out a drum rhythm on the steering wheel as he drove.

"Turn onto 6th," she directed him, now completely calm.

"So the kid's tutoring you?" Two-Bit asked, making conversation.

"Yes. Mr. Syme set it up," she answered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Two-Bit turned away from the road to run a critical eye over his passenger, noting the clasped hands laid lightly on her lap. "Do you ever loosen up?" He asked bluntly.

"Look at the road!" She exclaimed as another car barreled down the road toward them, Two-Bit drifting a little over the yellow line.

Two-Bit jerked the car back to the right lane and laid on the horn for a good five seconds, flipping the other driver off. "Asshole," he muttered.

Crisis averted, Emma shrugged. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean. Turn right on Louisville."

"You're just always so quiet. Never talk much in class, and I never see you hangin' around with anyone at lunch."

Emma shrugged, "I don't know many people here."

"Well, now you know me an' Pony. An' Steve, too."

She smiled a little and glanced over at her driver, studying him for a moment. He noticed her watching, and winked. Emma turned back to the road and cleared her throat, continuing her directions.

"Turn onto 9th, and follow that until you pass New Haven."

Two-Bit wordlessly obeyed, and it was only a few minutes later that she directed him to stop at her house. He pulled into the driveway, peering at the house as he threw the car into park.

Emma struggled with the seatbelt, but it was stuck. Two-Bit leaned over and jiggled it for her, and after a second it came loose. "Thank you for the ride."

"Anytime, doll," he tipped an invisible hat to her, and she smiled and hopped out, heading up the walkway. Her mom stood in the doorway, holding a dishtowel and watching as Two-Bit backed out and drove away — at a reasonable speed as he noticed her mom's gaze.

Just as he turned the corner, her dad turned onto the street from the other side and pulled up to the driveway.

Emma hugged her books to her chest and strolled up the walkway.


	8. Chapter 7

I am utterly ashamed that it has been so long, but you know how it goes. Someone's review actually sparked a whole line of inspiration, and I managed to get this one finished in record time. I hope you enjoy it!

As always, all comments and constructive criticism is welcome!

I do not own any familiar places, characters or situations. The lyrics are from Heaven Forbid by The Fray.

* * *

_Heaven forbid you end up alone, you don't know why / hold on tonight, wait for tomorrow, you'll be alright_

On Saturday, Emma woke up at 8:30 and joined her mom in the kitchen for breakfast. The boys always slept in for another hour and a half, but Emma and Mrs. Mansfield were early birds. They usually talked while they cooked breakfast for the family, and they treasured the time they spent together in the mornings, when the house was quiet and it was just the two of them.

"So Emma honey, how is your tutoring going?"

Emma washed her hands thoroughly, biting her lip. "It's going well. Ponyboy's real good at explaining it. He really gets it."

"He seems like a very sharp boy."

Diane glanced over at her daughter from the corner of her eye, waiting to see if she got a response. When she didn't, she continued, "you know, you two are still welcome to tutor over here…"

At this, Emma dropped her eyes to the counter and picked at a loose thread on the hem of her skirt. "I know. Pony's house is just a little easier, since he's got all his books and stuff there," she fibbed, not eager to tell her conservative mom of his fear of the police.

"I see."

Emma wasn't sure her mom swallowed it, but she found an easy out when she went to the refrigerator to discover they were out of eggs.

"I'll run down to the store and pick some up," she offered, slipping on some Mary Janes and grabbing the car keys from the table in the living room.

"Be careful. Here's some cash," her mom said, folding a dollar into Emma's palm.

She watched her daughter from the doorway as she hopped in the car, starting the engine and carefully backing out. The sunlight beamed through the car window and fell on Emma's face, and all the golden highlights in her hair stood out, and Mrs. Mansfield thought for a second how beautiful her daughter was. Emma glanced over at her mom as she pulled onto the street and smiled, and Mrs. Mansfield waved her fingers in a wave, baffled as to why her daughter had such a difficult time making friends at Will Rogers, with a smile like that.

When Emma pulled up to the local store, she parked and started her walk in. It wasn't until she was a good five feet from her car that she noticed the greaser leaning against the store wall between her and the doorway. Emma faltered a little, wary of his slouched stance and beady black eyes, but as she eyed him nervously, he glanced over at her and met her gaze.

Emma nearly gasped when she saw the long scar down the side of his face, and made a concentrated effort to tear her gaze from the twisting red mark back to the store doors just fifteen feet in front of her.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed with a shiver when he looked her up and down lazily, taking a drag on his Kool.

Emma kept walking, trying to keep her gaze straight ahead, and made a bit of an arc around the man, coughing as he blew his smoke right in her face. She gripped her purse tightly with her fingers, her heart pumping wildly.

"Don't mind me, Doll," he said from behind her, and she quickened her pace just a little as she pulled the store's door open and crossed the threshold. Relieved to be away from the greaser, she took a deep breath, making a concentrated effort to level out her breathing as she continued to the produce department.

After checking to make sure no eggs were cracked, Emma took a package of a dozen over to the cashier. When she was a few feet from the counter, she glanced to her left and turned back quickly when she brushed shoulders with someone walking from the cashier.

"Oh!" She turned to say she was sorry, but quickly bit her tongue when she saw the girl she'd bumped into.

"Watch it," the girl hissed, her blue eyes painstakingly clear against her pale skin and black hair. Emma was first stuck by the ephemeral beauty this girl possessed, and then by the harsh glint to her eyes.

"Sorry," Emma managed to choke out, but the girl was already past, pushing open the doors and striding out.

Shaking her head slightly, Emma stepped up to the cashier with her purchase. "How're you doin' today?" He asked conversationally as he rang up the price.

"I'm alright; how are you?" She asked automatically, barely even registering his response. Her mind was still a little tumbled from her encounters, and after handing him her bill, she pocketed the change and hurried out, crossing her fingers that the greaser would no longer be leaning on the wall.

Thankfully, he wasn't, and she let out a quiet, relieved sigh as she crossed over to where her car was parked.

She passed the greaser as she drove back, and she was more surprised than she should have been to notice that he and the girl she had bumped into were walking together. She should have connected that they were related, with those sky high cheekbones and devilish attitudes.

Glancing in her rearview mirror, she was relieved to see that the greaser hadn't paid attention to the car, not that she rationally believed he could or would do anything, what with her in a vehicle and him on foot.

Still, there was something about the pair's ability to induce such unease in Emma that transcended logic.

Back at home, Emma parked on the driveway beside her dad's police car again and took the eggs in to her mom.

After spending the majority of the Saturday in, everybody was excited when Mr. Mansfield suggested going out for dinner. Emma had spent the day getting ahead on homework, while Mrs. Mansfield puttered around the house, doing a bit of cleaning and then curling up with the newspaper for a break. George had taken Roger out to the backyard for a game of catch, but Roger was still learning and was easily frustrated, so they finally came in.

Emma pulled her hair up into a ponytail and secured it with a ribbon, meeting everybody in the car afterward.

"Where are we going?" she asked, watching out the window as they pulled from the driveway.

"How's Dairy Queen?"

Roger chimed in enthusiastically, and Emma and Mrs. Mansfield nodded and agreed.

Once they arrived at the joint, Roger squirmed between his parents and grabbed one of each of their hands, swinging them cheerfully. Emma followed a few steps behind, watching the rest of her family and feeling just a little bit left out, until Mrs. Mansfield turned around and tugged at her arm, pulling her closer and tucking Emma under her arm. She planted a soft kiss on the top of her daughter's head and Emma felt a bright red blush spot her cheeks when she saw a few kids from her school sitting at a table by the windows. She shrugged out of her mother's grasp and sashayed away a few feet, refusing to look at her mom's face.

Once inside, Emma gave her order to her mom and went to claim a booth, sitting down at the least dirty one she could find. From her spot, she could see a table full of a few middle-class students from her school. A few of them looked like they could be Socs, and there were one or two that erred on the side of greaser, too. They were those rare kids that refused to side with either clique. They chose neither. They were talking and laughing, and Emma shook her head a bit to keep from staring.

_I wish I had that_, she thought, and then thought back to tutoring with Pony and the car ride with Two-Bit, and a warm glow spread across her. Maybe she did have that, or at least, maybe she could.

Her parents joined her then, and she wasn't as embarrassed to be with them because she was still thinking back to her new friends.

They got almost through the entire meal in peace, but just as they were finishing up, in came none other than the scarred boy from the grocery store and two other boys she didn't recognize. She shivered involuntarily, and it was only in part because of the ice cream she was working on. The boy scanned the room and his eyes fell to rest on Emma.

His gaze flicked to her dad, who locked gazes with him for a second, and then the boy sauntered up to the counter. His face betrayed nothing.

"Alright kids, finish up. Let's get back home. We've got church in the morning."

Roger groaned but Emma was silently glad they were leaving. That boy scared her silly. She threw away her trash at the can closest, her dad and mom following suit.

She nearly gasped aloud as Roger shot up from the table and announced that he was going to the bathroom, scampering off toward the restrooms on the other side of the diner before anyone could react. As Emma watched, her reckless little brother almost ran headfirst into the scarred boy, who was turning away from the counter with a full tray of food.

The greaser stopped short and held up his tray over Roger's head so Roger could get through, and then he looked straight at Emma's dad and smirked.

Emma's heart was pounding, but the bathroom door was already swinging shut behind Roger and the scarred boy was taking a seat at a booth, his cohorts sliding in beside him.

Emma glanced back at her parents and was surprised to see her father's grim face.

The family walked back toward the front doors, passing the boy on their way, but Emma walked in the front of the group and didn't risk a glance to the side.

As soon as Roger came back out, George set a protective hand on his shoulder and the family all slipped through the door, her dad nodding and saying a quick "thank you" to the cashier as they left.

* * *

Sorry for the lack of action, but the next chapter has Dally!


	9. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **Super-nervous about this one... reviews/constructive criticism are appreciated! Please let me know how you feel about this chapter! And also, I got on a rush of inspiration, and the end of this chapter marks the end of that wave, and last time, a review sparked the creative juices. If you have any ideas or suggestions, I would love to hear them.

I do not own any familiar characters, situations or places. The lyrics are from Try by Nelly Furtado.

* * *

_"The more I grow / the less I know"_

Emma was in a cheerful mood at school on Monday. She hummed lightly to herself at her locker, and nearly shrieked aloud when two hands were clasped over her eyes. It only took a moment, though, for her to realize who it must be.

"Two-Bit, get your filthy paws off me," she quipped, feeling bold. Two-bit whistled, impressed, and restored her vision.

"Who woulda guessed? Sweet ol' Emma's got a sassy streak." He turned around and leaned against the locker beside her, eyeing her with awe as she switched books.

She blushed, but didn't skip a beat.

"Sugar and spice, ain't you heard?" Emma glanced over and smirked, then firmly shut her locker, spun the combination lock and started walking off to class, leaving Two-Bit slightly slack-jawed behind her.

_I just bantered with a friend! _She marveled, and then quickly shook her head, admonishing herself for being such a nerd as to make a conscious note of that fact.

When she slid into her chair in Algebra just as the bell rang, she noticed Two-Bit had not followed her to class. His seat was empty. A small frown marred her face as she wondered where he had been, and for a moment her mind ran with worries that she had offended him in the hall.

But before she could get too far with thoughts like that, the door bounced open and in sauntered Two-Bit himself. Without even turning away from the chalkboard, the teacher sighed. "You're late, Mr. Mathews. Take your seat quietly, please."

He did as he was told with no comebacks this time, which surprised the teacher enough to make her turn around and eye him warily as he walked to his seat. As he was passing in front of Emma's row, he glanced over and winked.

All through class, Emma found it hard to concentrate. She kept glancing over and seeing Two-Bit making some goofy face at her. It took all she had not to bust up laughing right there in the middle of lecture.

After the bell rang at the end of class, Emma was more surprised that Two-Bit stopped by her desk to wait for her as she stood and gathered her things.

"You should really pay better attention in class, Emma," he said with a perfectly straight face and even a disapproving frown.

Emma put a hand on her hip and tried her best to raise an eyebrow in dismay. Apparently she succeeded at her impression of Two-Bit, because he burst out in an appreciative chuckle. Emma held the face as a warm glow spread through her. Two-Bit reached out with his fingers to smooth her wrinkled eyebrow, and Emma's breath caught as his skin touched hers. For a moment, she was paralyzed, but then the touch was gone and he began striding toward the door of the nearly emptied classroom, still chuckling a bit. When he reached the threshold and realized Emma wasn't beside him, Two-Bit turned back around and cocked his head in confusion.

"You coming?"

Emma came to with a start, realizing that she hadn't moved an inch. Her hand dropped abruptly from her waist and she grabbed her things and hurried after the utterly unfazed Two-Bit.

As they walked through the crowded halls, Emma sneaked a glance over at him every few feet. He was whistling an overly jaunty tune and didn't seem remotely affected by what had just happened.

Did Emma read something into nothing, or did he like her? Then did he actually have feelings for her, or was he just messing with her? Emma was lost.

As she reached her locker, though, Two-Bit didn't stop. Instead, he turned around and walked backward, waving goodbye and tipping an invisible hat. People behind him leapt out of the way or were stepped on, giving him dirty looks as he passed, and Emma was almost anxious until he turned around and started walking the right way again.

With a sigh, she opened her locker and began switching out her books for her next class.

English was long and boring, as usual, but before she could make it out of the dreadful room for lunch after class, Mr. Syme called after her to stay.

For once, she didn't grimace. She was confused. She thought she'd been doing well on her quizzes and assignments.

"Yes Sir?" She asked as the last person stepped out of the room.

"I just wanted to see how your tutoring is going. You've been doing much better on the assignments," he smiled, and Emma nearly sighed in relief.

"It's going well, Mr. Syme. Ponyboy's really good at explaining things." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Emma blushed, realizing that she had implied Mr. Syme wasn't. She was mortified, but she couldn't find a way to backtrack without making it worse, and before she could blurt out something else stupid, he grinned.

"Good. I thought he might be able to help some."

Emma grasped at the chance to restore herself. "Yes Sir. I'm glad you suggested it."

Mr. Syme smiled and stood up to dismiss her. "Alright. Just thought I'd check. You can go on to lunch now, Ms. Mansfield."

"Thank you." Emma began pacing quickly toward the lunchroom. She didn't even stop at her locker, worried that Two-Bit and Ponyboy would have already left for lunch. She had been hoping that they would invite her out with them, but by the time she got to the cafeteria, everybody was already settled in, and she was sure they were gone.

With a sigh, she grabbed a tray and started through the lunch line, preparing for a boring half hour in the cafeteria.

* * *

A few miles away, George's typical Moday morning ritual was taking a very atypical turn. When he'd gotten to work that morning, he and Charlie had headed out for patrol duty. As usual, they cruised in the direction of Java Joe's, a coffee shop by the high school. They had the habit of dropping in so Charlie could get a sugary donut and strong coffee. His wife was the health-conscious type, and she kept them on a low-fat, no-sugar, low-carbs diet.

This meant that while he was out at work, Charlie got the worst food he could find—from these donuts in the morning to greasy hamburgers for lunch.

They'd become regulars at Java Joe's every morning at just about 9:45, and Timothy knew where to find them. George had implied before that if Tim ever had anything to say that he didn't want official, he could catch them at Java Joe's. He had intended for this to help Timothy stay out of trouble, but of course Tim was far too proud and loyal for that. He'd never taken advantage of this opportunity before, but there was a first time for anything.

"Hey there," the cashier, Roscoe, greeted them with a smile, instantly recognizing them. "The usual?"

George nodded, "I've got this one," he told Charlie, flipping out his wallet and pulling a bill out for the breakfast. Roscoe handed George the receipt and then turned his back to the counter to fill their drink orders.

"How are things this morning?" Charlie asked Roscoe, leaning on the counter as he waited.

"Just about the same as usual," he grinned, sliding the full cups onto the countertop and then holding out a sticky sweet donut.

Charlie and George took their coffees and Charlie took a heaping bite out of his donut as the two headed back toward the door. They passed a long line of booths, paying little mind to the customers. Just a handful of people, as always. A couple sitting over breakfast in the corner booth, a man in a suit with a coffee cup in the next table over, somebody reading a paper behind that. Nothing unordinary.

But as George stepped level with the news reader, the paper folded down. "Nice family you've got, George."

With a start, Mr. Mansfield stopped and turned to face the Shepard.

"Thank you, Timothy," he sighed. Charlie shot an interested look between the two.

Tim was smirking like a tomcat, clearly pleased to have this new piece of information about George's life, but George was less than thrilled. He liked to keep his work life and his home life separate, and a casual happenstance left a gang leader with faces to connect to George's wife, daughter, son.

"Y'know, that daughter of yours looked about Angela's age. We should really get the two together. I bet they'd make fast friends. Aw hell, let's just have a big barbecue for the whole family. You can meet mine, and I c'n meet yours. Formally, that is."

George just shook his head. "Tim…"

"Oh come on, we could have a Mansfield/Shepard bowling game!" He chucked heartily, and George just flipped him the bird and walked out the front door, Charlie following behind with questions in his eyes.

Tim dropped the paper on the table with his empty coffee cup and caught up just as the officers were getting into their squad car.

"Seriously now, George, that son of yours… how old is he?"

Mr. Mansfield eyed him warily.

"Because here in another few years, I could initiate him, just for you!"

George rolled his eyes and slid into the seat, shutting the door firmly and indicating that Charlie should start driving away. Tim stood with his thumbs hitched in his belt loops and a smirk on his face until the car had rounded the corner.

* * *

Back at the high school, Emma couldn't wait until her final period. She walked with a bounce in her step toward her last class, excited for the day to let out. She was tutoring after school, and she looked forward to the easy atmosphere at Pony's.

As she headed toward her class, she wasn't paying much attention to anyone else, with her head in the clouds. She was running late, but her teacher never started class on time, so she wasn't too worried. Besides, she didn't have to push through the crowds now—the halls were emptying out quick.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed two people standing in the middle of the hall, talking, but she didn't pay much attention until a loud whistle broke the air.

She blushed bright red and glanced over quickly, and then wished she hadn't. It was Dallas Winston, talking to the scary boy behind her in her History class, and he was eyeing her like a piece of meat. By now she was almost next to them, within arms reach, and her heart thudded loudly. She tried to look natural as she stepped sideways toward the edge of the hall, out of his reach, but she was pretty sure she failed at subtlety.

He didn't seem to care, though, and she kept her eyes trained ahead as she walked. She was doing good, just stepping past the boys, when the toe of her left foot caught behind her right and she stumbled, hands flailing wildly and books tumbling to the ground as she tried to catch her balance. She managed to keep from falling, but her books were a lost cause and for a second, she just looked at them spread out on the floor around her and considered leaving them.

She could hear the snickers of Dallas Winston behind her, and by now she could have passed as sunburned as red as her face was. Her skin was prickling with the heat of embarrassment and irritation, and she slid down, keeping her knees together as she squatted and picked up her books. The boys didn't offer to help, only made snide comments and stared at her.

Emma gathered her things as quickly as she could and then continued on to class, speeding up the farther she got away from them. By the time she slid into her seat six minutes after the bell, her teacher actually had begun his lecture, and she got reprimanded for being tardy.

By now, Emma was absolutely mortified. She knew she'd always wanted attention, but not quite like that.

As she pulled out her notebook and started copying down the notes, her anger climbed. She could feel herself becoming furious with Dallas Winston and all of his trouble. Nobody needed to be that rude. It was his fault she'd tripped because she'd been so worried about staying away from him, she decided. So it was his fault she was late, and embarrassed again.

It took almost the entire class and the distraction of a quiz for her to stop thinking about it and to cool down. And then she was throwing things into her locker and grabbing her homework, shuffling with the crowd toward the school doors to meet Ponyboy.

She waited off to the side of the crowd and it wasn't long before Ponyboy caught up.

The two instantly fell into step and began heading toward Pony's house. The crowd thinned and things quieted down the farther out they got.

Emma forgot about the incident in the hallway earlier, and she and Pony talked easily about class and assignments.

About five minutes into their walk, though, they were interrupted by the loud beep of a car horn and squealing tires. Emma nearly jumped out of her skin and bumped into Ponyboy as she leapt farther away from the road. She was so surprised that her grip on her books loosened and they tumbled to the ground.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said, looking down at the pile of schoolbooks at her feet. Two-Bit in the car on her right was guffawing in laughter. He slapped the wheel in amusement, and a weak beep sounded from the horn.

This time Emma didn't jump, and with a sigh she leaned down to get her things. Ponyboy was already chasing down any of her papers that had begun skittering off in the breeze, and he came back with a few in his fist and knelt down beside her to help pick up her books.

He stuffed the papers under the cover of a book and handed them back to Emma, who smiled gratefully. Apparently, some boys were capable of being gentlemen, she noted.

Two-Bit, she decided, was not included in the list at that moment in time. Once everything was back in her arms, she turned to glare at him.

"You're so jumpy, Emma," he chuckled, barely seeming to notice her glower, moving on to a completely different topic without a second thought. "Y'all two want a ride?" he asked.

Pony looked to Emma for her answer, and she let the glare melt away, her brow smoothing out. "If you promise not to kill us."

"Hey now. I'm a fine driver. Just ask Lucy Lee."

"I thought it was Sally Sue?"

"She's finicky," he replied.

Emma just shook her head and opened the passenger door, slipping into the back seat and setting her books on the seat beside her.

Ponyboy hopped into the front and they began the hair-raising ride to the Curtis'. By the time they got there, Emma was glad she'd barely eaten lunch as she stepped out of the car and was grateful for solid ground.

Two-Bit clapped her and Ponyboy on the shoulders and then pulled open the door and sauntered in, flicking the TV on and then diving onto the couch.

First, Emma was surprised by the casual way that Two-Bit walked in before the host. It was rude, but a glance at Pony told her he wasn't even close to as miffed as she'd feel. He didn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary.

Then Emma realized the door hadn't been locked. And thinking back, Pony's door had never been locked… he'd always just pulled it open. She couldn't even recall ever seeing him with keys.

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"What?" He asked in confusion. By this time, they were setting their things down on the kitchen table.

"The door. It wasn't locked."

Pony shrugged. "It never is."

"That seems foolish."

He was utterly unconcerned, pulling out his chair and sitting down. "We've never had a problem," he said.

"Still. Doesn't seem smart to invite a burglar."

He just shrugged again and pulled open Emma's English book. He opened his mouth to start tutoring, but a burst of noise from the television in the next room commanded his attention.

"Not so loud, Two-Bit!" He hollered, "We're studying."

The volume came down considerably, but Emma could hear Two-Bit grumble a bit.

Then Ponyboy launched into their session, and Emma blocked everything else out to listen to her tutor.

After an hour, Ponyboy came across a word he actually didn't know, and he frowned, almost seeming embarrassed. Emma didn't think there was any reason for that—it wasn't like she knew what it meant either, and she was ready to just dismiss it as surely not important and move on the next paragraph, but Pony hopped up from the table.

"I'll go get a dictionary," he mumbled and strode off toward his room. Emma yawned and stretched her arms over her head, shaking her hair out a little and then zeroing back in on the book in front of her.

It wasn't a few seconds later that the kitchen door squeaked open and then swung shut with a bang, causing her to jump for the third time that day. Her knee banged against the table and she bit her lip to keep from cursing as it stung.

She looked up from the table to see who had caused that awful racket, and her face went white as she saw the towheaded boy standing just in the door.

"Am I in the wrong house?" he asked, glancing behind him out the door and then around the kitchen Emma sat in.

_I sure hope so_, she thought, but she was too tongue-tied to speak.

Dallas frowned, causing her to go even whiter, and asked "do you ever talk?" He was so brash and rude, and her anger toward him from earlier came flooding back.

"Not to you," she shot back instinctively.

His eyebrows shot up a bit and all the color flooded back to her face in one quick second. She shrunk back a bit in her chair and stuttered, "I-I…"

Before she could apologize, Two-Bit had wandered in from the living room, and was standing behind Emma.

"Hey Dal," he greeted, cheery but with a bit of wariness to his voice, Emma thought.

"Hey man," Dallas responded, shifting his attention away from Emma and seeming to forget her existence. She nearly sighed with relief. "Where is everyone?"

Two-Bit shrugged and grabbed two beers from the fridge, offering one to Dallas, who took it and popped the top off instantly, throwing back half the bottle.

"You're 21?" She asked Two-Bit, surprised. She hadn't thought he could be older than 18. Come to think of it, Dallas didn't seem that old either.

Two-Bit raised his eyebrows mid-swig and kept his eyes on her as he swallowed. "Sure," he smiled, seeming amused.

Dallas was staring at Emma like she'd grown another head, and she fidgeted, growing both embarrassed and irritated. What was it about this guy that always brought out that combination? "Are you kidding me?" he asked Two-Bit, but it sounded like he was referring to Emma.

Before Two-Bit could respond or Emma could open her mouth and say something she'd regret, though, Ponyboy walked in with the dictionary in his hands. "A dearth of something means there ain't much of it," he explained, trailing off a bit at the end as he saw Dallas standing in the kitchen. "Hey Dallly."

Dallas nodded in greeting and then hitched his thumb toward Emma, "who's the broad?"

She sat up a bit stiffer in her chair, objecting to being talked about as if she weren't sitting two feet from the hood.

"Emma has my English teacher. We're working on homework," Ponyboy said, and Emma was strangely glad he hadn't said he was tutoring her. It was embarrassing sometimes, and she definitely didn't want to look weak in front of Dallas Winston.

Emma half expected Dallas to say something, to acknowledge her presence or apologize for earlier, but he didn't act as though he recognized her at all. Instead he just nodded at Pony's explanation and then walked into the living room with his beer. Two-Bit waited for a second, finishing off his drink and dropping it into the trashcan. It clanked as it hit more glass, and Emma wondered how many beers were already thrown away.

Then Two-Bit turned and followed Dallas into the living room, and Ponyboy launched back into English like nothing had happened.

"Pony!" Emma hissed quietly, hoping nobody else could hear. She leaned into the table toward Pony.

He glanced up with confusion. She wanted to roll her eyes. He was so clueless.

"What is Dallas Winston doing here?" she whispered.

"I don't know," he said, his tone normal, and she flinched and gestured for him to quiet down. "I don't know?" he asked in a whisper, bending his head toward hers and staring at her like she was out of her mind. She sure was getting tired of being on the receiving end of those looks.

"He's dangerous!"

"Dally?"

"Yes!"

She gasped as a head popped up into her and Pony's furtive stance. "What did I miss?" Two-Bit whispered goofily.

Emma leaned back in her chair with annoyance and pretended not to notice the look Pony and Two-Bit shared. So everybody thought she was out of her mind. Lovely. She knew they were the ones that were crazy.

She finally sighed and shook her head. "Forget it."

"Shoot Kid, you just gotta loosen up." Nodding his head backwards toward the living room, Two-Bit said, "His bark's worse than his bite."

Emma shuddered and Two-Bit stood up, putting a warm hand on her shoulder and squeezing it lightly before he walked back into the living room.

Emma's shoulder tingled where Two-Bit had touched her, and she turned around in her chair to stare after him for a second. What on God's green earth was going on with these boys? She couldn't understand a single one of them.

This was a very different world, and she was just beginning to realize that everything she understood about right and wrong and rules and traditions and propriety just didn't apply to this group.


	10. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **It's been a REALLY long time since I updated anything on this site, but I stumbled back across this story the other day and really wanted to revisit it. I actually already had most of this written before I took my hiatus, so I just had to clean things up to get it ready for posting. If anybody is still reading after, what, four years, you may want to revisit the earlier chapters. I edited a few minor details. I'm hoping to get some more written and actually finish this story before the next four years pass, but wish me luck. :)

**Disclaimer: **Most characters belong to S.E. Hinton, and the lyrics are from Straylight Run.

* * *

_"I know it hasn't been easy on you / but everything's changing"_

Pony and Emma finished up tutoring by 4:30, which was pretty good, she thought, considering all the distractions. Dallas was nothing if not inconsiderate. He'd been in the next room laughing loudly at the TV, until he and Two-Bit started up a game of blackjack, and then he'd been trash-talking and goofing off at basically the same decibel.

Emma thought Ponyboy had been getting pretty annoyed, but he never did say anything. She wondered if he was scared to, and figured she couldn't blame him.

After the two shut their books, Ponyboy glanced at the clock. "Darry oughta be home with the truck pretty soon, and he c'n take you home."

Emma couldn't help the disappointment she felt. Two-Bit was in the next room and she'd been hoping he'd drive her back just like last time.

She followed Ponyboy into the living room. He threw himself back on the couch with a sigh like he was exhausted, and Emma smoothed her skirt down and sat beside him. Two-Bit was a few feet in front of her on the floor, but he stood up and bowed, taking off an invisible hat with a flourish.

Dally shuffled the cards and ignored Two-Bit.

"How are you, Miss Emma?"

Emma crossed one leg over the other and fidgeted with her bracelet, uncomfortable with Dallas's mere presence.

"I'm fine," she said.

Two-Bit had been watching her legs as she crossed them, and his eyes trailed up her bare ankles to her knees, and Emma blushed as she realized her skirt had ridden up a few inches above her knees.

"Yes, you are," he agreed with a cheeky grin.

Dally let out a barking laugh.

"Two-Bit!" she gasped, and smoothed her skirt down. She glanced over out of the corner of her eye to see Pony's ears reddening.

He held his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm sorry Emma. How 'bout I give you a ride to make up for it?"

"Well, alright. Let me grab my books."

"Books?" Dally asked, speaking directly to Emma with a lazy grin that made her positive she wouldn't like what he was about to say. "That could make your _ride_ pretty uncomfortable…"

Emma blushed as the innuendo sunk in, and Ponyboy coughed uneasily.

Even Two-Bit was turning a bit pink, Emma noticed, and he just knocked Dally on the back of the head with his palm. "I'll go start the _car_."

Emma stepped past Dally where he was sprawled out on the floor, and bristled when he didn't even move an inch to let her by. She had to step over his feet, which she did without a word.

After she had her things, she walked back to the living room.

"Bye Ponyboy. I'll see you tomorrow." Then she looked at Dallas, who was watching her, and gave him her best withering look, although she wasn't sure she succeeded because she heard him chuckling as she walked out the door.

Once she was securely belted into her seat, Two-Bit pulled away from the curb, at a surprisingly reasonable pace. Her tensed muscles slowly relaxed, and she looked over at him in shock.

"You're driving well!"

"Just so you don't have an ulcer, Doll."

Emma smiled and settled back more comfortably.

"Don't let Dal get you too worked up, Em. He's not so bad," Two-Bit said.

She bristled, but bit her lip. There was so much she wanted to say about Dallas—about how he was rude and inconsiderate and vulgar—but she guessed he was Two-Bit's friend, and then it would be rude of her to voice her very negative opinions. So she looked out the window and kept her mouth shut.

Two-Bit was tapping the steering wheel and bobbing his head to the beat of the song on the radio, and Emma wondered if he ever got self-conscious. He sure never acted like it. She wondered what it would be like to never get embarrassed, and imagined it must be nice.

When he pulled into her driveway to drop her off, Two-Bit put the car in park and turned to face Emma as she jiggled her belt buckle, finally getting free from its grip. When she gathered her books in her arm, she put one hand on the door handle and then looked back over at Two-Bit and was surprised to see him just sitting there watching her.

She cocked her head and took her hand off the door handle. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" She said, her voice lifting at the end.

He blinked and nodded quickly. "Have yourself a merry evening, Em."

A smile lit up her face, and she echoed his sentiments, hopping out of the car and pushing the door shut with a quick bump of her hips.

Two-Bit watched her skirt swish as she walked up the driveway. It wasn't until she shut the front door behind her that he grinned and backed out, heading back to Ponyboy's house for dinner.

* * *

The next day at lunch, Emma picked silently at her macaroni and cheese with one hand, resting her chin in the palm of her other. Across the table from her, Eugene was wheezing, using his inhaler between bites of the cafeteria's mystery meat.

Besides the two of them, the table was empty. Lunch had just started a few minutes before, so there was still a chance someone else would sit down with them, but glancing at her companion, who was now in the midst of a sneezing attack so severe Emma briefly wondered if she should get help, Emma wasn't holding out hope.

"A-are you okay?" She asked tentatively, flinching when he made a strangled coughing noise.

Eugene nodded and reached for his inhaler. "Allergies," he choked out.

_To what? _Emma wondered, looking around at the tiled cafeteria. There wasn't even a plant in sight. She had a fleeting moment of panic when she irrationally wondered if he was allergic to _her_, but she quickly dismissed the thought.

"Boo!"

Emma jumped at the voice right behind her, sending her milk flying and letting loose a short scream. She watched in horror as the carton smashed against the back of a chair at the next table, milk splattering into the hair and shirt of a very well dressed football player.

Clapping a hand against her mouth, Emma's heart pounded wildly as the boy turned around, one nasty scowl on his face as he felt his hair.

"Sorry 'bout that, Buddy." Emma was shocked to hear the voice from behind her. "Just sorta slipped outta my hand… Imagine that," Two-Bit spoke up jovially.

"You're dead, Grease," the boy promised, angrily returning to his lunch when a teacher walked past. "Watch your back," he growled.

Two-Bit wiggled his fingers in a mock wave and grabbed Emma's hand, tugging her after him out of the cafeteria.

"Damn girl, you've got one mighty fine hand on you!"

"I didn't mean to! Oh my God, I can't believe—I'm so sorry…" she rambled, trotting along after Two-Bit as he strode toward the parking lot. "Hey, you scared me!" She slapped his arm and glared.

He just grinned.

"So where are we going now?" She asked, all anger gone from her tone.

"Lunch!"

"I had a perfectly good lunch at the table, until you made me throw it away… literally."

Two-Bit let out a short barking laugh, and Emma smiled a little, pleased. This felt easy, almost natural, the back and forth with the greaser.

"Don't get yourself in a tizzy, Darlin'. I promise the company will be much more fun where we're going," he said, as he opened his passenger car door and she slid in.

The ride there was silent, save for Bob Dylan's crooning from the radio. Emma didn't mind the music, but she gritted her teeth as Two-Bit wheeled into a parking spot at 40 miles an hour, and then followed his lead when he hopped out and headed toward another car.

By the time she caught up, he was talking easily with Ponyboy and Steve and his girl Evelyn. _Great_, she thought.

When she stepped up beside Two-Bit, Evie raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow at her.

Speaking right over Two-Bit and Steve's conversation, the dark-haired girl asked, "May we help you?" in a tone that made it very clear that the answer had better be no.

Gritting her teeth, Emma took the high road. "Hello Evelyn. I don't think we've met formally. I'm Emma. We have a class together." Emma held out her hand for a shake, but the girl just stared, smacking her gum.

Then she turned and planted a kiss on Steve's cheek. He ignored her, talking to Two-Bit, but Emma sure got the point.

Lordy. As if she were interested in Steve Randle anyway.

Ponyboy shot Emma a sympathetic look, and Emma just crossed her eyes and blew her bangs out of her face. Pony smirked but didn't say anything, and after a few minutes, Emma got bored and decided to go buy her food from the convenience store. When she told Two-Bit she'd be back in a few minutes, Evie inserted herself into the conversation.

"Okay?" she said, making it clear that Emma's actions were not of interest to the group. The blood rushed to Emma's cheeks and she was just about ready to ask the girl what her problem was when Two-Bit shot Evie a warning look.

"Hey I'll come with you," he said, and they left the group behind.

"I just don't understand why she hates me!" Emma burst out as soon as the door to the store shut behind her and Two-Bit.

"Don't take it personal Emma. Evie's not particularly pleasant to anybody."

Emma bit her lip to keep from asking why Two-Bit hung out with people he always had to apologize for. She didn't want to bicker with her only friend, but for such a happy boy he sure kept with some unhappy people.


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **Some characters belong to S.E. Hinton. The lyrics belong to The Fray

* * *

_"some trust in love and some trust in hatred / some trust in fear and some in violence"_

After her final class, Emma stopped at her locker to get what she needed for homework that night. It was a Tuesday, so she wouldn't be tutoring, and that was disappointing. But instead of dwelling on that, she thought back to lunch that day and how Two-Bit had taken her with him. That was a nice surprise and she hoped he would do it again tomorrow.

And then as if he knew she was thinking of him, he was suddenly right there behind her. She caught a flash of him in the reflection of her mirror on the inside of her locker, so she wasn't surprised when he popped up on her side with a "Boo!"

It was nice to have one up on him, and she was glad for it. She arched one eyebrow cockily.

"Hey there, Two-Bit."

He laughed as she shut her locker door, and they started talking as they walked out the doors together. They made it to the middle of the parking lot before they were interrupted.

"Hey greaser. Got milk?" somebody yelled right as an open carton of milk hit Two-Bit in the back. Some milk splattered on his jacket and a little bit caught in Emma's hair. They both turned around and Emma wasn't particularly surprised to see the football player that her own milk carton had hit in the cafeteria that day… and three of his friends.

Emma was terrified, but she looked up at Two-Bit beside her and he seemed okay. He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops and smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hey boys. I'm more of a whole milk guy myself, but thanks for the thought."

Emma wasn't sure why he wasn't explaining that it was just an accident, but she thought maybe that would ease some of the tension so she figured it was time for her to step in.

"I'm really sorry about that milk incident earlier. It was an accident. I got scared and I just accidentally let go of the carton… I-I'm really sorry." She hated that her voice shook. She started out steady, but nobody even looked at her while she spoke, and she started to get nervous.

The football player spat on the ground right by Two-Bit's feet, and Emma jumped back a little.

_ Didn't they understand it was just an accident?_

Two-Bit's eyes narrowed and Emma really saw him for the first time. He looked scary and dangerous, and she took a step back from all of them.

Right as she did that, the football player stepped forward and swung at Two-Bit. A scream rose in her throat as they started to fight, and she stepped backward again and again. She wanted to say or do something, but she didn't know what to do. She thought about saying that she would tell her dad, the police officer, but she couldn't get any words out. Emma was frozen in fear as she watched Two-Bit fight off the football player.

He seemed to be holding his own, but none of it looked good, and then one of the Soc's friends stepped up to the fight and swung too. It seemed like they were all getting ready to hop in, and her panic was mounting.

Emma turned around to find someone to help and was poised to run back to the school and get a teacher, but coming up quickly she saw Ponyboy and one of his friends. At that moment, she heard a click of metal and looked back to see Two-Bit holding a switch in front of him. All four of the Socs backed up a step as he spit blood on the ground and cursed them out so thoroughly that Emma's ears turned red.

From behind her, so quiet she didn't even realize he was there, Ponyboy stepped up between her and Two-Bit. Right behind him was that Cade boy from her History class. Emma shivered.

The Socs were backing away from Two-Bit's switch, and the football player shook his head angrily. "Next time, Pal."

"Next time maybe we c'n have a fair fight, one-on-one, _Pal._" Two-Bit snapped, his grey eyes stormy.

The Socs turned and left, hopping into a little red coupe and peeling out.

Emma was shaking like a leaf. Her stomach was in knots and she felt a little like she might lose her lunch. As Two-Bit turned, he put his switch back in his pocket. His anger seemed to melt away pretty quickly, and he smiled at Ponyboy and his friend. Emma wished she could turn her feelings on and off like that. She tried to steady her hands, which trembled and gave away her uneasy state.

"Missed you at lunch today, Johnny."

"Had to stay late in class working on a test. What's all that about?" Johnny replied, nodding in the direction the Socs left. His voice was quiet and cool.

"Just a little misunderstanding. You know those boys." Two-Bit grinned, but Emma stared at him. It _was_ a misunderstanding, and he didn't even try to correct it. What in the world was wrong with him? Or any of them?

It wasn't until then that Two-Bi even looked at Emma, and she watched, embarrassed, as he took in her pale face and trembling fingers.

"Hey Doll. Glory but you look like you've seen a ghost. Let me take you for a milkshake and see if we can get some color back in your face."

"A milkshake? Two-Bit, you really think that's going to fix it?" She was dismayed.

Two-Bit grinned cheekily, rubbing his sideburn with his finger. "Well, I only know one other way to color those cheeks…"

Emma glared and bit out, "a milkshake will be fine."

"Catch you both later," Two-Bit said to Ponyboy and Johnny as he led Emma to his car. She was bristling with irritation, but she was a little grateful for his steady hand on the small of her back as he guided her. Her heart was still beating a little fast, and she was a bit light-headed.

By the time they arrived at the Dingo, Emma's breathing and heart rate were back to normal.

Two-Bit ordered them both some fries and milkshakes, and once the waitress left Emma opened her mouth to speak. Maybe Two-Bit guessed what she was going to say, or maybe he just didn't want to hear it. Either way, he jumped in before she could get a word out.

"Just a little fight, Emma. It wasn't anything to worry your pretty head over. Let's just forget it happened. Now hey, would you like to catch a flick this weekend?"

Emma blinked at him in surprise. He glossed right over everything that happened and then threw her a curve ball to distract her. Well hell if she'd let him pull that.

"No, Two-Bit. That's not working. Why didn't you help me explain that it was an accident? You were so ready to fight."

The grin slipped off Two-Bit's face, but he didn't seem angry. He pulled a comb from his pocket and ran it through his hair, patting his hair into place as he answered nonchalantly.

"Emma, it don't matter what they were angry about. They're always gonna be angry about something. I've never backed away from a fight, and I ain't gonna start now."

She paused as his words sank in. _They're always gonna be angry about something. _Maybe the fight had less to do with the milk incident than it had seemed. She knew the Soc/greaser rivalry was intense, but maybe she was just now realizing how bad it got. She assumed people on both sides would do things to cause the other side to get angry and retaliate, but maybe those catalysts were just excuses, fronts for an underlying resentment or distaste that would continue regardless of what either side did.

"Now how 'bout that movie?" Two-Bit asked, his head tilted just a bit to the side as he looked at her.

Emma's chest tightened and she felt a little flutter in her stomach. She wondered if he was just toying with her, but she already knew she wouldn't say no. It wasn't like her dance card was full with other offers. She wanted to go on a date, and she liked Two-Bit.

"Okay. Yes." She bit her lip as she blushed, and Two-Bit grinned. He leaned over the table and brought his hand up to her face, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone.

"There's that color I was talkin' about."

Her face was warm where he touched her, and she was both disappointed and grateful when the waitress interrupted to set their shakes and fries down. Disappointed because Two-Bit's attention was kinda nice, especially when she had been so lonely for so long, but grateful because she still wasn't quite sure what to think. In fact, she was pretty sure she wasn't thinking at all.

* * *

Later that evening, Emma was working on homework in her room when her dad came home from work. He stopped at her door to check on her, and she set her pencil down on her math book.

"How was school today, Em?"

"It was okay," she answered carefully. She had a lot of thoughts in her head that she didn't know how to sort through, and just as George turned to continue toward Roger's room, Emma spoke up. "Dad?"

He looked back at her and stepped into her room. "Yes?"

"What do you know about the Socs and the greasers?"

Whatever question George was expecting, that wasn't it. He looked at his daughter thoughtfully, and pulled her desk chair out to sit.

"Well. I know enough. Why?"

"I just… I saw a fight at school today, and these four Socs were fighting against one greaser. It's just not right," Emma sighed.

George nodded. "It doesn't sound right. But Emma, stay out of all that, please. It's not your fight, and all of that rivalry is trouble. It's only a matter of time before it blows up and people on both sides are gonna be in a whole world of hurt and trouble."

He watched Emma and felt somewhat satisfied when she nodded, seeming to take his advice to heart. He really didn't want her getting mixed up in all that. He had seen enough in his line of work to know that things were getting bad.

Just as he was about to leave, he turned back. "Something else to remember, Emma. Socs jump greasers, but greasers jump Socs too. Neither side is innocent in all this."

Emma bit her lip and nodded, picking up her pencil again, and George left.


End file.
